


The Ballad of Frankie James

by tx_ladyj



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Inappropriate Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tx_ladyj/pseuds/tx_ladyj
Summary: A mysterious woman moved to Charming to start a new life but things don't go as planned and her life is tragically altered.Could the ruggedly handsome Scotsman and current President of SAMCRO be her knight in shining armor or will he end up being destroyed in her quest for revenge?
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. A New Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a story so be gentle. It's a work in progress and I hope to update as much as possible. 
> 
> I'd like to thank my lovely and talented friend, xMistressMistrustx, for her encouragement and advice as I try my hand at fan fiction. She's an amazing writer and if you love Daryl Dixon, definitely check out her stories.

It was a warm October evening in Charming when they came home from the grocery story. It wasn’t something that was unusual for them as they were used to the Texas heat. The woman was in her early-30’s with long dark curly hair, creamy skin and pale blue eyes. She knew she wasn’t considered a stunning beauty with her freckles and curves. A little taller than most women, she was still considered voluptuous with her 5ft 7inches frame. Her little mini-me beside her was talking a mile-a-minute shared her dark hair and blue eyes just a little darker than her mother’s. The woman had her hands full with both groceries and her daughter who was telling her about her day at her new school. The precocious 8 year old had finally seemed to be settling into her new school and was so excited to tell her mother about a new friend she’d made who had invited to her birthday party in the next couple of weeks. She made a mental note to find out what all that entailed. Taking keys in one hand and groceries in the other,the distracted mother unlocked their apartment door to their dark home. She kept the lights off to try and save money on their electric bill. A single mom working at a diner didn’t make much in California. Their small two bedroom was on the first floor of the complex. The tiny galley kitchen was a few steps and to the right from the front door so getting the groceries wouldn’t be too difficult for them. The mother switched on the kitchen light as they entered, the living room and hallway still left in darkness. Her daughter chatted away cheerfully as she helped her mom pull out their items from the reusable tote bags.  
It was at that moment when the young mom was placing the jug of milk into the refrigerator that she heard her daughter’s frightened stuttering voice.

“MmmmMomma”.

The young girl’s mom looked up and to her left where her daughter had been standing by the door that lead into the dark hallway between the two bedrooms. A tall man was standing directly behind the girl as he had a grip on her face with his left hand. She could see shiny rings and tattoos on his meaty fist that was wrapped her frightened daughter chin. His right hand was draped over her shoulder and held a wicked knife. The mother started forward to reach for her daughter when she felt a hand grab her hair from behind. Another man hissed in her ear.

“Don’t”, he said with a low gruff voice, “scream and you both die.”

She froze not wanting to endanger her daughter's life.

“Where is Sergei?!”

Her mind was all over the place. She couldn’t think of anyone she knew by that name.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He pulled back on her hair and she could feel strands being pulled out of her head. His right hand came around and was gripping her neck.

The man holding his daughter spoke low and menacing while he stroked her hair with his knife.

“Давайте повеселимся”

The one behind her scoffed, “he wants to have some fun. I’m tempted to let him.” He tightened his grip. “Answer my question.”

She finally found her voice but she could barely get the words out.  
“We don’t know any Sergei”.

She could hear the anger as he cursing and pulled her into the darkened living room and threw her on the couch. She finally got a better look at her attacker, he too was heavily tattooed with rings and a black vest as worn by many biker club’s she’s seen come into the diner. He was shorter than the one holding her daughter but he was just as terrifying.

“Wrong answer.” Was all he said before she felt the first blow to her face.

\- - - - - -

Beep.....beep....beep.....beep.

It’s the first thing she heard before she attempted to open her eyes. So much pain. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t scream at her.

My baby!!

Panic set in and she tried to sit up but she had wired alarm and tubes attached to her. Her eyes were swollen but she could make out white walls. Someone was standing nearby and calling out to her. She tried to focus on the words.

A rich, deep voice called out her name, “Frances James? Can you hear me, Miss James?”

She calmed enough to turn her head slightly towards the voice and nodded. She could barely make out the tall figure who was speaking was standing at the foot of her bed. He had a dark complexion, short black hair and a deep soothing voice. Her eyesight was still too blurry to make out any features.

He continued, “Miss James, my name is Detective Anderson and my partner here is Detective Rodriguez. We were hoping you’d be able to speak to us on what happened at your apartment the other night?”

Other night?! Shit!! My baby girl?! Where’s my baby?!

She breath picked up and her hands started shaking. Opening her mouth was painful but she forced herself to squeak out the words, “my daughter?!”

A voice to her left responded, she had a slight accent and also spoke with a gentle voice, “Miss James, when we were called to your apartment, you were the only person there.”

A wail started at the bottom of her throat as Frances began crying.

The two detectives stepped back as medical personnel rushed to her side to tend to the grief-stricken woman as her vitals surged at high levels.

It took some time for medical staff to calm her down. The detectives could see her struggling to pull herself together as she nodded to the doctor as he spoke softly to her. 

After what seemed like hours, the doctor allowed them to continue speaking with the distraught mother.

“Miss James”, Anderson started again, “I know you are under a lot of stress right now but we need to get as much information from you about what happened. Your neighbor across the hall found your door open and you lying in a pool of blood. She called the police but didn’t have anything she could tell us other than you’re new to the apartment complex, quiet and respectful of your neighbors.”

When she finally spoke again, her voice was raspy and harsh like she’d been smoking for 60 years.

“My baby, Elizabeth, she’s just 8 years old. 55 pounds, black hair like mine and her eyes are a darker blue than mine. Are you searching for her?`` she demanded to know.

“Miss, we’ve been circulating her picture since we found you. We were hoping you could shed some light on who attacked you. It would help us direct our resources because right now, we have no leads, `` replied Rodriquez. 

“We just got home from the store…..”

She proceeded to walk them through what had happened and tried to describe with as much detail as possible. What they wore, tattoos, how tall they were. She hesitated for a moment before she said, “They kept asking me where Sergei was but we don’t know anyone by that name.”

A look passed between the detectives when she said the name.

“What?!”

“The previous tenant was named Sergei Volkov. That name doesn’t ring a bell?”, asked Rodriquez.

“No, like I said, we’re new here and I’ve never met anyone named Sergei.”

“The manager of the complex mentioned you’d just moved into the building just a few weeks before this happened. Had anything usual happen during your time there?, the woman continued her questioning.

“No. We had been staying at a hotel until we could find an apartment.”

“Where did you move from?”

“Texas.”

“Why did you move here?”

With that question, Anderson could see the woman flinch as though she didn’t want to answer.  
“For a fresh start,” was all she responded. 

Rodriguez nodded and continued scribbling in her notepad.

“How long?

“Excuse me?”, Rodriguez looked up from her notes.

“How long have I been here in the hospital?,” she barely whispered.

Anderson sighed. He knew this moment would come when he had to deliver the bad news. He gathered up his courage and stood up straight to await the response he knew was coming.

“Miss James, you’ve been in a coma for 3 months.”


	2. The Diner

Keeping to the confines of the kitchen of the diner, Francis was able to see the patrons as they came and went. Most hardly knew she was even there until some imagined issue came up with their order. This was a definite advantage as she was able to watch and sometimes even hear what goes on in this town with a name that had deceived her into moving there to start her life over and raise her daughter. Unfortunately, the seedy underbelly that was Charming had reared its ugly head and altered her life forever. 

A few of Charming’s namesakes are here, She thought as she watched the leather-clad men enter the diner. 

The boisterous group who entered the diner where well known to the community. Once they were feared and most stayed clear of them until the day their leader decided to change their focus. Nowadays, the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club was known for its charitable work and helping keep the town clean of drugs. It was quite the change from the year prior when Jackson Teller and his wife, Tara, left Charming after they’d made changes to the charter club. They wanted to eventually leave a legacy for their boys to be proud of some day. 

She had made it her business to learn everything she could about all the clubs and gangs in the area as she gathered intel. The locals liked gossip while drinking their coffee, she’d heard them swap stories about what had happened to the local MC. They never noticed that the woman behind the counter was taking it all in. She gathered from it all that once all was said and done, a new President took over, one ruggedly handsome Scotsman by the name of Philip Telford. Chibs, they called him. He was a tall glass of water with salt and pepper hair and an accent that made the women of the town dream of him whispering gaelic to them in their bed. 

Entering the diner with him were his VP, another tall scruffy looking man with blue eyes and dark curly hair by the name of ‘Tig’ Trager. He had quite the reputation but had settled down with a woman named Venus. Pulling up the rear was younger man with a shaved head with tattoos that was the new Treasury Secretary, “Juice” Oritz. He’d been away in prison and did his time. He had the support of his club after he’d confessed to his role in taking the life of the matriarch, Gemma Teller-Morrow, when she attempted to kill Tara, the wife of Jax Teller, and mother of his children. Juice paid penance and cleaned up his act and they’d welcomed him back after Jax had forgiven him. The club members had started coming into the diner on a regular basis once they tasted the new cooks food. A vast improvement from the last cook whose unhygienic ways led to some of the patrons getting extremely sick 6 months prior. 

She remembered the first time they’d come in diner just a few weeks after she’d started working there. They’d come in to celebrate Juice’s release from prison. She smiled at the memory of Tig yelling at Juice who wanted to take a bite out of his burger that he’d been moaning with ecstasy over. 

“Put down the burger or I swear to god, - I’ll shoot you in the knee!”

“You’re insane!”, Juice laughed as he put the burger back down on Tig’s plate.

“I know! Isn’t it great?!”

That’s how she first directly encountered the Redwood Originals. She knew of them as she’d already been gathering the names of the players in town after she’d left the hospital. Always good to know who is your enemy or ally.

Although they love her cooking, the rowdy crew hadn’t had direct contact with her until the night one of the prospects tried to hit on her on of the local bars. She was quietly sipping on a beer at one end of the bar, back to the wall and watching the crowd. She had pretty much kept a low profile but Rat recognized her from the diner and decided to try to talk to her. She was cordial enough at first but when he had placed his hand on her back to lean in to talk to her, her attitude changed like Jekyll and Hyde.

“Remove your hand or I will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.” she demanded in a low menacing voice.

Rat was taken by surprise by the beautiful woman with the terrifying demeanor. Later, He’d told a few of the guys in the club about being shot down by the new cook. He’d take a good amount of ribbing from getting his ass handed to him by a woman. 

“She’s like Marilyn but it’s a toss up on if it’s like Monroe or Manson”, Tig said intrigued by her response. The boys wondered how such a looker could have that much venom. With his curiosity peaked, Juice did what he did best, research on the web. 

He’d found out that her name was Francis James but everyone called her Frankie. She was in her mid-30’s and had been living in Charming only a few months when tragedy struck and she’d lost her little girl and nearly her own life. She kept to herself and had very few friends. Her life before Charming was a mystery. Juice was intrigued that her online presence was barely even a toe much less a footprint that most people have. She didn’t have a Facebook account or even Instagram. He’d found an article from nearly 2 years ago that stated the bare minimum about the tragic loss of her daughter. Suspects never apprehended. 

Once they’d heard about what info Juice could find, the club decided to be friendly but distant so they wouldn’t scare off the little lady they considered a huge upgrade to Charming’s central diner. Chibs was even more intrigued by her after he’d come face to face with the cook one day as they had both walked out into the small hallway that contained the the diner’s mens and womens restrooms located directly next to each other. He took up most of the hallway so she’d nearly walked right into his arms.

Chibs stood over her a good 6 inches so she’d had to look up into his face in surprise. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she stammered her apology as she backed up to give him room. 

“S’all right, Luv”, he’d said jovially. “Name’s Chibs”

He’d finally had a good look at her face and was struck by her blue eyes. He didn’t even notice the scar at her temple until she’d brushed a wild strand of brown hair from her face.

“I’m Frankie,'' she said softly.

“Nice to finally meet the woman responsible for puttin’ on mah few extra pounds,” he laughed has he rubbed his stomach with his hands. She noticed the multiple rings and tattoos which added to his already dangerous vibe of being a biker of a former outlaw gang. 

She blushed not knowing how to respond to the intimidating man standing before her with the charming smile, albeit, slightly crooked due to old scars along his cheeks. 

Chibs noticed the blush and tried to put her at ease, “It’s a compliment to ya, Lass.” He winked and walked back to his table where other members of the club watched the exchange between their President and their favorite short-order cook. 

Frankie took that as her cue to make her way back behind the counter where she felt safe and where she could glance at the Scotsman as he sat enjoying the food she had prepared. To her dismay, she found the biker quite handsome and vowed to stay away from him. She had plans and he wasn’t part of them even if she found him attractive.


	3. It Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me here. It's been a crazy few weeks but I'm not leaving this story until it's done. Let me know what you think.

Frankie’s brief encounter with the president of the local MC and his sexy, crooked smile almost made her feel guilty about everything she was planning on but only for a brief moment. She was going to get her revenge even if she had to burn this town to the ground and everyone in it. 

After her all night shift at the diner, she headed out the back door to her beat up truck that she’d bought cheap from one of the local salvage yards. It had taken her countless hours, a shit load of elbow grease and an endless amount of cursing to get that bucket of rust to be road-ready. Putting all her focus on fixing something so broken was in a way her own therapy, it kept her focused on something other than the heartache buried deep within her. 

As she drove home, Frankie thought about everything she’d been through since coming to this town. She and Lizzie had needed to find a place to start over, away from the drama that had been her life before in Texas. Luck, good or bad, had found them in Charming after throwing a dart at a map on the wall. She’d cut all ties, uprooted their lives and took off to someplace no one knew them. A place where no one would even think to come looking for them.

Frankie thought her luck had finally changed when she’d received word that the apartment complex had a sudden opening. The mother-daughter duo had been living in a hotel room for a few weeks before the call there was now a vacancy. It had been the perfect size for just the two of them. Moving in was exciting for the youngest James as she was able to pick out new furniture for her room since everything they owned fit into their suitcase and the ‘71 Torino that had seen better days. Life was looking up then. 

The first few months after she’d woken from her coma, the detectives would come to visit and bring her any updates they had on trying to locate her daughter. Over time, the visits became fewer and further apart which would take the young mother deeper into the darkest part of herself. Losing Lizzie was like her soul had been ripped from her body and with each passing day, Frankie had little hope of ever finding her. She did everything she could to hold on to the belief that since they hadn’t found her body, she must be alive out there somewhere. So, with each scrape of the knuckles and with every curse she uttered while draped over the engine of that ‘75 Ford Ranger, her brain was formulating a plan. There had to be someone out there with information on these bastards who took her and come hell or high water, she was going to flush them out and put the fear of a Mother’s wrath into them.

Arriving at her destination on the outskirts of Charming, the sun was barely peeking up over the horizon when Frankie pulled up to a locked gate belonging to a self-storage business that appeared to be abandoned due to financial issues. She’d bought the land and buildings at a steal months prior but never took the signs down. To anyone passing by, the place was abandoned and under foreclosure which gave her the privacy she needed. 

Climbing out of her truck, she glanced around to ensure she was alone. Frankie unlocked the gate and pulled open it enough to allow her to pull the truck through. Once she’d passed through the opening of the chain link fence that surrounded the abandoned compound, she re-locked it and continued driving her way around to a building towards the back of the location which was the largest of the buildings. It was out of sight from the road which is one of the reasons she picked it. Any possible trespassers who dared to sneak onto the property would never know someone was living in the deceptively dilapidated building. The windows were blackened to keep prying eyes from seeing the contents within. It was part-garage and part-storage which was converted into a living space. Frankie pressed the button to open the door, drove into the building and waited while the door closed behind her putting her into near darkness. Once the door shut completely, fluorescent lights flickered on that allowed her to see her way to the door of the adjacent living area. 

She gathered her jacket and a doggy-bag from the diner and headed into the dark dwelling where silence greeted her every day. Inside, a large open room housed the bare minimum for a person to live. A bed, a couch and a desk. The living area was very basic and impersonal. Entering from the garage, the door from the outside was on the left. Multiple locks graced the frame along with a bar that re-enforced it from anyone trying to break it down. Across the room in the right corner was a double-bed with a make-shift nightstand. Following the square room to the right was a kitchenette that contained a fridge and counter space enough for a sink, microwave, coffee maker and a place to work. A small bathroom with a shower, commode and sink completed the living space. Directly across from the garage entrance was her desk - command central. Frankie had bought it from a second hand furniture warehouse that bought old furniture from military bases. She lucked out with a big L-shaped wooden desk that housed her computers that she used to do her work. On the wall behind the desk, she’d hung a white board where names were hastily scribbled and a cork board that had numerous articles and pictures pinned. Frankie researched the town of Charming, who the heavy players were and all their dirty little secrets she could unearth. She had stacks of papers and a file cabinet with folders containing every shady character living or remotely connected to them. 

Taking the container she’d brought with her from the diner, she walked into the kitchenette and scraped the contents onto a paper plate and nuked it in the microwave to take the chill off. As she waited for the spaghetti to warm up, she thought about the Scotsman and his crazy crew of misfits and malcontents. She was ready to set the plan in motion to flush out a couple of low level henchmen from the gang known as the Wolfpack and no ruggedly handsome man with a brogue was going to change her plans 

Her research into the man by the name of Sergei Volkov came up with the criminal organization by the name of Wolfpack, named after their leader. He’d disappeared months before she and Lizzie had taken residence in his former apartment. She was determined to find out who it was that was looking for him and why. In order to do so, she would use her talents to tempt a few of them out of the woodwork to get some answers. Hopefully in a few days, her plan would come to fruition. 

Grabbing a bottled water from the fridge and the plate of lukewarm spaghetti, Frankie head over to her desk and sat down in the cushioned leather chair. She knew she was going to be spending a lot of time at her computer so she had spared no expense on her seating. Leaning over the desk, she pressed the button that started up her set up. Multiple screens lit up in front of her as she took the fork and dug into her food. She needed sleep but she knew long ago that sleep would come when she’s dead. Her priority was to find the bastards that took her baby and make them pay. 

\- 

Driving along the streets of Charming in a Teller-Morrow tow-truck, a sound came from his phone laying next to him on the seat, alerting him to an incoming text message. Juice rolled his eyes and pulled over to the side to see what was so important. 

“What the fuck!”

Throwing his phone back on the seat, he checked his mirror and pulled back into traffic with the Beemer in tow and made a bee-line to the body shop. 

_Someone is messing with my baby!_ He thought.

The treasurer pulled up into the yard of Teller-Morrow garage and body shop fuming with anger. Dawg, a new prospect, quickly ran up to see what he needed. 

“‘Sup, Boss?”

The beefy red-head with the southern drawl was one of the newest recruits but he had learned pretty quickly that when shit hit the fan, it usually ran down the hill to him.

Juice threw the truck keys at Dawg as he yelled, “Take care of Mrs. Hill’s beemer.” The angry man with the head tattoos headed straight for the office and the computer. His set up had alerted him that someone was attempting to hack into his system and he was not pleased to say the least.

_Fucker is going to get his ass handed to him._

The computer proficient biker booted up his computer and went to work.

Chibs walked into the office from the garage wiping grease from his hands with a rag, “‘da fuck is goin’ on, Juicy?”

“Some prick is trying to penetrate my system searching for something!” His fingers flying across the keyboards.

“Ya need some privacy ‘dar Juicy?” the Scot chuckled for a second until he saw that his young friend was truly angry.

Before Chibs could even ask what that was going on, an exasperated Juice mumbled, “No fucking clue on who or why but I can tell you, they know their shit.”

“Shouldn’a be anythin’ but invoices on vehicles and shyte,” Chibs growled.

“I know, I know. I went through everything like Jax asked me before he left. We didn’t have anything on our drives that could drive a nail in our coffins. We are clean and have been since before he took Tara and the boys!”

“Could it be someone who doesn’t know we’re straight now?”, asked the Scot.

“Always a possibility. Could be someone trying to steal money?” His eyes darted back and forth across the screen, reading the system, typing furiously while trying to block access to private info such as credit card numbers and addresses of their customers. When he found what was accessed, confusion etched in his face.

“Da fuck?!” He turned to his President and stated, “They weren’t after any of the financials, whoever it was just wanted all of our personal info.”

“Da hell do ya mean?!”

“They were were looking into the clubs current personnel records, anything they could find. Names, addresses, phone numbers and any of our associates. Whatever we had current in the system”. 

“Jesus, couldn’t they ‘ave looked us up in da bloody phone book?! We ain’t exactly hidin’ here.” 

“I thought it was a system glitch the last time,” the younger man confessed. 

“Wad’da mean, glitch?”, demanded Chibs as he narrowed his eyes at the redeemed Son.

“A few months back I found some irregularities in the system. I ran a program and found malware. I got it contained and out of the system.”

Chibs rolled his eyes, “Ya know i don’t know nothin’ about this shyte.”

Juice continued to explain that he’d set up some alerts for any more attempts at accessing the system thinking it was just a one-time hack by some idiot clicking on a link in an email they shouldn’t have. 

“We need ta go ta church, Juicy-boy.” 

Nodding in agreement, Juice pulled out his phone and dialed Tig to gather all the boys.

Across town, Frankie was exhausted from her all nighter. She’d obtained any new numbers she could find on the Sons. Time to set it up. 

She made a couple of calls and a time and date was set. 

_No going back now_ , she thought. 


	4. Damsel in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter to get you into the weekend.

The alarm blared into her ear from the makeshift nightstand next to her bed. It had only been a few hours ago that she’d finally quit her research long enough to take a shower and try to get a few winks of sleep. She rarely got much rest these days so getting even a few hours was a bonus. Frustrated by that horrid beeping sound, Frankie grabbed the old wind-up alarm and chunked it across the room. The beep withered and died 

She knew she needed to get up and get her ass in gear. The meeting she’d set up was happening today and she needed to be sure to have a tech run-through to make sure everything was in working order. In the early morning hours, after she’d showered, she’d remembered to lay out her clothes for the day so it wouldn’t take her long to get dressed. Tired and sore, she laid in bed for a few minutes staring at the bland white ceiling. After a few minutes of much needed procrastination, she rolled towards the edge of the bed all the while her bones popped as she made herself get out of bed. 

“Damn,” she growled, “Used to be my snap, crackle and pop was in my cereal bowl.”

She slowly made it to the chair where she’d laid out her clothes for the day, a pair of black jeans that hugged her curves and her t-shirt with the diner’s logo. Working in the kitchen meant she didn’t have to wear the same outfit that the wait staff did and she was grateful for that. 

Making her way into the bathroom to freshen up, Frankie ran through her checklist she had in her head. Step by step what she needed to do that day. She stared into the mirror at herself as she braided her hair into one thick plait down her back. Her skin wasn’t as vibrant as it used to be, the dark circles under her eyes were more common than not. 

_One day,_ she thought, _I might finally feel alive again._

Glancing at her watch, she picked up her pace and gathered her belongings. A tablet and cell phone were shoved into her backpack. She never liked purses, always a pain in the ass and she wasn’t one for being coordinated like most women she knew. A few tech gadgets she had in a cushioned bag was placed on the top part of the backpack. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and made a bee-line to her truck.

She was a few miles away from the storage facility when she heard a loud **pop** and then **thump-thump-thump**. Pulling over to the side of the road, Frankie rolled her eyes, leaned into the steering wheel and sighed.

 _Please not today_ , she pleaded softly to herself. 

Climbing out of the old Ford, she glanced down and found the driver’s side back tire had blown and was flatter than a pancake.

“ **SHIT!** ”, she growled as she kicked the tire with her sneakers.

Sighing, she went to the back of the truck and started to pull out the jack and the spare she was glad she had finally remembered to have put in the back. Pulling with all her might, she was able to get the heavy tire out of the back and rolled close to the tire that she needed to change. Glancing at her watch, she gritted her teeth and silently cursed at herself for not leaving earlier to avoid being late for her tech run.

Grabbing the tire iron and jack, she made her way over to the wheel. Got the jack into position and furiously pumped the handle to get the truck off the ground. Just as she started to work on loosening the lug nuts, she could hear the sound of a couple of motorcycles coming from the direction of Charming. 

_Just my luck._

She made her way quickly to the cab of her truck and pulled out the 9mm Smith & Wesson pistol she had in the glove compartment. She tucked it into the back of her jeans and untucked her shirt to cover the gun from view. 

Frankie glanced down the road to see the men making their way towards her. As they drew closer, she could recognize one of them as the President of the Sons of Anarchy, Chibs, she remembered he called himself. The other man she hadn’t put a name to the face yet. 

She watched as they pulled over to the side of the road behind her truck. The men took off their helmets where they placed them on the handlebars and made their way to Frankie. 

“Alo Lass, havin’ a wee bit of trouble, are ya?”, the charming Scot asked as he walked up a few feet away from her. 

Frankie nodded, “Nothing major. Just had a tire blow out.” She pointed at her drivers side tire.

The man with him was quiet but imposing. He kept his eyes on her and never uttered a sound. Frankie could see the badge on the right side of his kutte indicating he was the Sgt at Arms. 

“Happy and I would be glad to help out a damsel in distress.”

He made his way over to the side of the truck and asked her, “Where ya headed?”

“To Hell, most likely,” she muttered to herself as she turned towards the truck. She cleared her throat and spoke louder, “To work, my shift starts in an hour.”

Neither man reacted to her first response they most likely were not supposed to hear. Happy raised his eyebrows and glanced over to Chibs who gave him a smug grin.

“Well Lass, let’s get this bad boy changed for ya so ya can get to work. Hap, a hand here? ”

Happy walked over to Chibs and both men started working on the truck.

"Frankie, right?" asked the head of the Sons. 

She nodded to confirm but stayed silent as she watched them work.

"Don't think ya met my Sargent-at-Arms, Happy Lowman", he nodded to his companion. 

Frankie said a "hello" and relaxed a bit. She’d heard these men were not the type to assault women but there’s always a first time so she was still cautious as she watched the two tall, rough looking characters get to work on her tire. She knew she could change it herself but she was more than happy not to get dirty if two strong men offered their services. Within 15 minutes, they had the tired changed out and with a sigh, Frankie went to shake their hands and thank them for their help. She went up to the quiet but intimidating man with the bald head and intense glare. Frankie reached out to shake his hand and it took him a minute to realize she was offering it to him.

“Aren’t you afraid of me,” his voice was as gruff as he looked. 

Stunned by his frankness, Frankie looked into his eyes and chuckled, “Seriously? I’ve had worse nightmares about failing AP Calculus in High School.” 

Chibs bust out laughing. Happy just stared down at the tiny woman with the strange sense of humor. 

Shaking her head, “Don’t study me. You won’t graduate.” Frankie walked over to Chibs to thank the man who was grinning from ear to ear. She tried not to let his dimples get to her. 

_Remember the plan._

“Tis a good thing you’re cute. Hap doesn’t take kindly to bein’ teased.” 

With a small grin to show she wasn’t worried, she turned to Happy to ask, “You like to terrify people?”

He shrugged, “If you don’t terrify people a little bit then what’s the point?”

“You’re a psychopath, aren’t you?”

“I prefer creative.'

She nodded, “I can respect that.” Happy nodded at her but his expression remained the same. 

Chibs was surprised by her response and watched as she turned back to him to shake his hand. He smiled, dusted his hands on his jeans and then he reached out to take her hand. They were small and soft compared to his rough meaty mitts. She didn’t have fancy nails like the croweaters that hang out at the clubhouse. Hers were neatly cut short and didn’t have any colored polish on them. His eyes drifted up to look into her face. The second he looked into her light blue eyes, he felt a connection that he thought he’d never feel again after he lost his wife, Fiona, years ago. The woman who had just teased the Tacoma Killer actually started to look like she was nervous to face Samcro’s President and it surprised him even more. She was a walking contradiction and he wanted to actually figure out the puzzle. In fact, he looked forward to putting the pieces together.

Frankie cleared her throat and could barely thank the tall, handsome biker. 

_Dammit, woman. He’s just a man. A fine looking one. STOP!_

He watched her intensely has she had a brief struggle with herself. He’d love to know what she was thinking but he didn’t want to scare the poor lass.

“Y’r set to go, Lass.”

“Thank you, Mr. Telford.”

“Nah, you can call me Chibs. Mr. Telford was me asshole father.”

She nodded, “Ok, Chibs.” Still smiling up at him, it took her a minute to realize she hadn’t let go of his hand. “Oh sorry”. She slid her hands down to her side and made her way to the open door of her truck.  
Both men had climbed back on their motorcycles and were putting on their helmets. She figured they weren’t watching her so she quickly grabbed the pistol that she still had in her waistband and did her best to conceal it from view as she placed it in the cab of the truck. Frankie climbed into the cab and started up the truck. Within a few minutes, she’d pulled onto the road and made her way to Charming, praying she’d made to the diner in time for a quick check on her equipment.

The bikers watched her drive off and Happy asked, “You catch that?”

“Yep”

“She definitely wasn’t a damsel in distress.”

“Nah, y’r right there, Hap. She’s more like a damsel about to do some damage. I’d be more worried if she didn’t have one on her.”

Happy nodded in agreement. He checked his mirrors and pulled onto the road with Chibs pulling up behind him and both men made their way to Lodi. 


	5. The Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy. I know my chapters are pretty short but I'm pretty new to writing so I'm trying not to over do it my first time around.
> 
> Kudos are welcome, comments even more so!

_Seriously?! He probably thinks I’m a fuckin’ mental case! Modernday Jekyll and Hyde._

Making her way into Charming, Frankie’s thoughts were on the embarrassing scene she had just made with a couple of bikers with dangerous reputations on a near deserted road. She rolled her eyes and silently berated herself once she remembered who Happy Lowman was from her research and how close she could have come to disappearing, never to be heard from again. Not that anyone would miss her. She was not without skills but the tall, dark and scary bike with the very odd misnomer of Happy was the quintessential criminal even though the club had turned itself around. Happy was still a very dangerous man yet he wasn’t the one who made her as nervous a nun in a whorehouse. Blaming her stupidity and rise in hormone levels on the lack of sleep, she hoped they’d seen her as just the broken woman that she was and not see the simmering darkness that hid below the surface. But just the thought of the salt and peppered beard with the crooked grin and those beautiful brown eyes made her heart skip a beat. 

_Calm yourself, girl. I guess I’m not as dead inside as I thought._

She hadn’t thought about any man like that in years. For the last 7 years, her main goal was to raise her daughter. A relationship was the last thing on her mind after the debacle with Lizzie’s dad. She wasn’t going to bring her daughter up in the chaos that was her former life. Once she found out that she was pregnant, Frankie did what she did best: PLAN and EXECUTE. She was getting out of that life come hell or highwater. It had taken everything she had to escape with her beautiful baby girl. Constantly moving from place to place had become the norm but once Lizzie had become old enough to start school, the running had to stop so one day she put a map of the US on her wall, took a dart and let fate take its course. 

Now here she was, years later driving down a lonely road into the town where all her dreams died. Lizzie was gone. She couldn’t call herself a widow or even an orphan, she was a just a childless mother. All the anger and hate that had built up since waking from her coma was now directed into one last operation: FIND THEM, KILL THEM. Every last asshole who had anything to do with taking the only person in her life that ever brought her the least bit of happiness was on her shit list.

Wiping away the tears that threatened to flow, she cleared her throat and reminded herself that in order to get it done, she couldn’t feel guilty for the things she was planning to do. 

_Time to focus, crybaby. You got shit to do._

The beat-up Ford pulled into the parking lot of the diner where she spent much of her time behind a stove. She maneuvered her truck to the far end of the lot closest to the back entrance. It was still early afternoon so there weren’t many cars in the lot. Checking her watch, the brunette sat for a few minutes to give herself a pep talk before she headed into the building. 

_You can do this. You’ve done it before, you know what you’re doing. They’ll never know it was me._

Once she set herself straight, she’d gathered up her bags and headed to the backdoor of the diner. Quickly checking the hallway, she entered the office where she could store her backpack but she didn’t leave the bag with the items she needed. Glad she’d set up some of the devices ahead of time, she’d only needed to make sure she could get a good reception and record it along with cloning their cell phones. 

One of the wait staff by the name of Shirley greeted her as Frankie made her way into the kitchen. “Hey-ya, Sweetie!”

Frankie smiled, “Hi Shirl. What did I miss?”

Snapping her gum, the older woman with the blue cropped hair responded with a snort, “nothin’ fun. Was hoping for some of those fine Sons would come in here and remind me that I’ve still got some giddyup.”

Frankie laughed at her co-worker, calling her a friend would be pushing it. She’d come to know more about the woman and her lack of a sex life than she cared to know. The sex-starved woman was always going on about the Sons who came into the diner. The woman who was in her late 50’s had a thing for bad boys on motorcycles, always wishing they’d ride her as much as they did their harleys. Shirley was always spouting off how she’d be a croweater if she’d been just a few years younger. 

_More like a couple of decades._

At first, Frankie wasn’t sure what she meant by that term when she’d first heard it but later learned that those were the groupies that hung out at the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club a few miles down the road. SAMCRO, hence the term, croweater which didn’t leave much to the imagination for Frankie. The young mother only knew that she wasn’t the type to be anyone’s plaything. Frankie was far too independent and headstrong to cow to any man. 

“Sorry to hear that, Shirl. Maybe it’ll pick up later this evening and you can get your fill of eye candy.”

“Oh honey, don’t I wish. Just thinkin’ about Happy makes me happy, `` she giggled. 

Hearing his name, Frankie looked surprised by Shirley’s admission that her favorite Son was the brooding criminal that most would run from rather than get near him.

“Hate to break the news to you but I saw him and the Scot heading out of town just a bit ago.”

The blue-haired woman with the caked on makeup pouted as if she was a teenager learning her dad took away the car for the night, “Well, there goes my night. Shit. I did up my makeup real nice tonight hoping that hunk of a man would come in here for a piece of my pie.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Frankie’s shocked expression made the waitress giggle even harder.

“What? Ain’t there a Son you’d let eat a piece of your pie?”

Clearing her throat, “No, I don’t have any….um…I’m done baking pie.”

“Come on now, Sugar. You ain’t dead yet, ain’t there a man out there you’d want to bake a pie for?”

Just thinking about the Scot brought a blush to her face but she just shook her head and decided she needed to change the topic pretty damn quick. The thought of that man’s face getting remotely close to her pie was not something she needed to think about right now.

“I’ve got to get ready for my shift.”

“No worries, honey, I got pie enough for all the Sons”, she winked and started laughing. 

With that, Frankie turned and headed into the kitchen with her bag of electronics. She could hear the older woman giggling behind her. 

_I ain't got time for this shit._

Checking her watch, she had less than 15 minutes until her targets were to arrive. She set up the kitchen area like she wanted, made sure her sightlines were good and opened the bag revealing the electronic equipment. Switching on the earpiece, she placed it snuggly in her ear and fluffed her hair around to make sure no one noticed it. She doubted anyone from the main dining area could get close enough to even see it. With all her planning, the only variable she couldn’t predict was where they’d be seated once they arrived. To fix that particular issue, she’d placed ‘bugs’ in all the booths the day before. Who would think a local diner would be bugged? She had each device set up with remote switch so she could listen to any booth she needed at one time, it was placed inconspicuously under the spare apron on the counter. 

Everything was ready. The ‘bugs’ she placed were all in working order with good sound quality. Now all she had to do was wait for them to come in. Using her knowledge with cloning phones, she’d used a cell number she’d recently obtained from her hacking into the Teller/Morrow computer system. She’d made contact with one of their former associates and gave him the impression that she was in the business of purchasing items not legally sold in the local Walmart. The Russian, by the name Anton, was very curious and eager to meet with this new member of SAMCRO. Being a woman had its perks when needing to get a man to do what she wanted. Her hope was to get him and a few associates into the diner and record them, perhaps dropping some new names for her to search. The Wolfpack had quite the mysterious reputation and with their leader disappearing, information was even harder to come by without hacking into a government database which she didn’t want to do again. She’d learned her lesson the last time.

The bell at the front door of the diner tinkled to alert the staff that someone was entering the establishment. Frankie normally wouldn’t have heard it but with her earpiece in, she knew to look up to see who it was. 

_They are early. Let’s get this show on the road._


End file.
